Some Things Are Better Left, Unsaid

Some Things Are Better Left, Unsaid

The cold, night air brushed my face and shoulders, running down my back, chilling my spine, as I looked down below, into the ocean that surrounded me. It was a relatively unbusy night, which made it easier for me to walk to the side of the bridge, taking one last glance.

I wasn’t disappointed either, the water, now still, was a sight to behold, one that I’d cherish during my final moments, thinking of the joys that had once so heavily populated my life. My parents, had died two years ago, leaving me alone and cold in this godforsaken world. They had filled my life with happiness, acceptance, and encouragement, and when they died, my happiness ceased to be as well.

Life became hard, and my brother was no help at all, he was too focused on himself to care about my grief, and that was primarily the reason I was here now. It’s not like I didn’t seek the help, I sought the relief, yet no-one would care to assist me, especially not my own brother. He ignored me, pushing me to the depths of despair.

I took a deep breath, and moved my left foot off the railing that was beneath my feet.

“Dominic, get your ass down from there! So help me man, I will haul your ass in, again.” It was my brother, pointing his police-issued pistol at me, trying to convince me to get down, or I’d be shot.

“I’m not afraid of death, Eric. You can point your stupid gun at me all you want, it’s not going to convince me from getting down, back on to the stupid bridge. I can’t take it anymore, and I’m done.” I turned around, looking into his dark brown eyes, seeing his sorrow and regret, realizing, maybe he did care, in some selfish way.

“Dominic, I… You need to step down man. I’m here, trying to help you. Just, give me a fucking chance, alright?” He reached his hand out to my arm, making a gesture to to help me down onto the pavement.

I actually laughed a little, in an angry sort of way, trying to let him know, he wasn’t given just one chance. “Eric, I tried to ask you for help. You were always so self-centered, I couldn’t even get you to talk about the problem with me. Do you understand what I even went through? I don’t think you did.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!? They were my parents too, how can you accuse me of not caring? I sought justice, I tried to help the station find the guy who hit them. Isn’t that enough, to show that I fucking cared?”

“No Eric, that wasn’t enough. Because, in reality, you had me. I was always here, and when I needed you the most, you were never there. Sure, you let me stay with you when they died, for a grand total of three months, and then kicked me to the curb, but that shows no feeling of care whatsoever. You let me drop out of high school, you let me fall to my knees, broken, defeated, and unable to get back on my own. How could I ever feel like you were there?

“You made me fall into a pit of depression, constantly fearing for my life, unable to even get the proper paying job. Lucky for me, I made friends, one’s that you so happened to drive away, actually… Sure, you had good intentions, trying to stop me from abusing the drugs… But, when it was all said and done… What did you do to help me? Nothing, that’s what.”

The moonlight was shining in his face, revealing the tears that now trickled down his cheeks. “I...” He began, “I just… I don’t know how to act… You were there, hurting, and I didn’t know what to do. I acted selfishly… I tried to help you, but… It seems as if all I ever did was cause you more pain than happiness. I’m sorry Dominic.”

He paused, taking a deep sigh, “if you come down from there, I’ll change. I’ll help you get over the addiction, move on from mom and dad’s death… Just, don’t jump man… Please?” I watched as he reached his hand back out, hoping I’d grab it, and go back with him. “So, what do you say, will you come back?” That, was definitely the question of the day.

The Right Decision

The Right Decision

The loud music was pulsating throughout the entirety of the club, encouraging both men and women, often more drunk than not, to waste their money and have a good time. It wasn't often I found myself in one, but whenever I was, it was for business and not for leisure purposes. Tonight was no different, and was perhaps finally my chance to make it big.

I worked in a business few would ever dare to enter, one that took years of perfecting, years of being careful, and even more than that to train myself for its many hardships. It’s a job that allows me to learn many new things every day, good or bad. To be honest, there are times in which I doubt my career decisions, but it probably was for the best I ended up doing what I did. It’s not every day you’re offered a chance at making millions, right? And with millions of dollars on the damn table, who the hell would throw all of that away to live in some godforsaken cubicle day after day typing transaction statements into a computer? I sure as hell wouldn't.

What did I do for a living, though? It wasn't legal, that’s for sure. My occupation ranged from hit-man, to armed robber, to gunman, to even drug slinging. The latter of which, I found myself doing more often than anything else. It was dangerous, it was a real test on your inner morals, but the thrill of it was sure as fuck worth it. I started hanging around with these guys when I was younger, and slowly got myself into the criminal world few even realize exists.

There used to be a time, when I was younger, that I wanted out of it, but those days are long gone. All there is now, is my burning passion for the business. But, back to the matters at hand. Tonight, I was there to unload some product to a couple distributors in town, and was seeming to be going to plan.

At around ten twenty five, we all went outside and started unloading our car into the street dealer’s back seat. “You've got three weeks to bring us the money, Stan. You know how the boss is about payments and fees, don’t want to piss him off again or finding a new job will be the least of your worries,” I said, trying to intimidate him. His face went red, which was barely noticeable, given the lighting and the bandanna he was using to conceal his face.

That’s how you make sure they don’t dick around with the product, though. You tell em whose boss right from the start, fear just so happens to be an excellent motivator. I gave a sharp laugh, probably drawing the attention of some of the drunks leaving the club, but I didn’t care. I’ve gotten to that point in my career where everyone happens to be fully aware of what I do, but’s too afraid of me to do anything about it. Be it the cops, or anyone else.

Reaching into my jacket, I grabbed a cigar, put it into my mouth, and carefully lit it. It’s a real stress reliever, and makes me feel better than you could possibly imagine. To make matters even better, it happened to be Cuban, making for a wonderful cigar. Stan obviously wasn't a fan of smoking, he scrunched his face up, leaving his face in a huge disgusted expression. I laughed a little, finding how naive he was to be rather humorous.

It got quiet, really quiet, which made me uncomfortable. “Hey, Stan, mind hurrying this up?” I asked, trying not to give away my nervousness. He seemed to get even more unnerved by the question and slowed down even more. I imagine it was just to piss me off, too. Guy wasn't my type of person, and he made it very, very obvious I wasn't his, either. 

The club was still going crazy around the time he had finished, and some guys, who I imagined were going to some kind of Halloween party walked to their car, which looked about as shitty as their costumes looked over used. They were all dressed in black, one of them wearing one that resembled Ghost Face from scream, one of them wearing some kind of mask you’d expect from a metal band, and the last one wearing some kind of gas mask. I laughed at them, pretty hard, actually. They just seemed so… out of place from everyone else, and who wears costumes like that to a dance club, anyways?

They obviously had noticed me, and the one with the ghost mask turned his hand and tilted it. He was clearly trying to intimidate me, and get me to leave them alone. Fearing my natural good looks, I suppose. “Can I help you?” I asked, with a stern voice. He just stared at me, and when it was obvious he wasn't going to respond, Stan got out of the car and stopped stuffing the cocaine in the floorboard of his car.

I felt threatened, which was really odd for my I don’t give a shit attitude, but I did. I ended up walking over there, raising my arms in anger, and began to yell at him, telling him how stupid he looked, and that he was dead weight compared to my importance... and he just… stood there.

He sighed, and with a deep, calm voice, told me to: “Load all of the cocaine into their vehicle. It caught me totally off guard, and my jaw kind of dropped. I started to reach for my gun, when I realized, his friends, had already encircled Stan and I. We were pretty screwed and had no other choice to comply, unless we wanted to live, of course.

It was a lot faster when the two of us worked together, Stan and I probably stuffed the five pounds of coke into their car in about 15 minutes. I was pissed, though, and looked for any opportunity, even the tiniest one, to turn the situation around, but there wasn’t one. The guys just sat and watched, one of them holding an assault rifle of some sort, which I imagine he got out of the car, and another with some kind of automatic pistol. As for the guy in the ghost mask, he hadn’t even moved. The guy was still there, just staring at me.

After we finished, he pulled out a small pistol, and pointed to the inside of the car. “Get in,” he said, and we listened. I knew it was dangerous, and I told you all of that before, but I’d never been in this kind of situation before. What was I supposed to do, get up and fight them? I knew they were going to kill us, it’d only be a matter of time.

Only, it didn't. They pulled the car to a stop in front of the bridge, and gave both of us two choices. They’d shoot us, and let us jump in the river for a chance to live, or we could sling coke for them. Stan being the nervous prick he was, immediately agreed, but me, I wasn't so sure. They all stared at me, and I could feel the beads of sweat dripping down my forehead.

They made me feel afraid, afraid of myself, afraid of them, afraid of death. Fear is a great motivator, as I had said before, and I could feel it in my chest, which got heavier and heavier every damn moment. I wanted the money, the fame, and a chance at owning the city… and I sure as hell didn’t want to die, so what else could I do? I said yes. What would you have done?

The Dark Lord's Prison

The Dark Lord’s Prison

He sat there, on his knees, crying and feeling beaten, which he so clearly was. Hunched over, on all fours, and rolled into some sort of feudal position, he laid there, which gave me a large feeling of satisfaction. The man who had so vehemently defied my might, was now broken, shattered into a shadow of his former self.

I walked slowly through the doorway, setting but a single foot outside of the frame, and give a slight chuckle. “Now hopefully you can see, fighting against us was futile. Did you really believe you could defeat Galbranok the Great? Surely even from the start, you realized your goal was but a pipe dream, correct?” I said, in a quiet but fierce, mocking tone of voice.

He continued to be silent, but stopped shedding his tears. I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to look so weak, and little. His dignity was all he had left, he had no power, no family, and no friends. He was now alone, cold and broken, just how I wanted him.

“You didn’t have to do what you did Galbranok… We surrendered, it was unnecessary to kill them all, women and children, too. I mean, what kind of a monster does that? How can you possibly sleep at night, knowing you’re responsible for the death of innocent beings!? You’re no better than your father!”

I laughed, reveling in his, sad defeat. “I believe I must be better. I was able to single handedly, destroy the rebellion that had plagued the order since its founding nearly 150 years ago. How does that not make me better?”

“Because you have no fucking sense of morality! You kill others, with no sense for anything but power. Well, now you can bloody well have it, you’re left to control whatever you please.”

“Morals?” I put my hand on the hilt of my sword. “What right do you have to question my morals Mr. Talahak? You claim to have better morals than me? You armed young boys to fight the armies of the Black Knights. That in itself, is worse than anything I have ever done. I would not ask a child to face something that would so easily, result in their death. You sir, are pathetic.”

He stood up, facing me, and looking directly at my black helmet, trying to see into my very soul. “You have no right to question my motives. You destroyed anyone who did not idolize you. You sir, are not a saint, but rather, the devil in disguise.”

I unsheathed my sword, pointing it at his neck. “You believe you can speak ill of me? You’re scum, unworthy of even feeling the heel of my boot. I would kill you here, and now, but I would much rather watch you suffer until the end of days. You’re not worthy of living a life, not with the greed for control you possess, so I will keep you here. I will visit you, and watch you be tortured until finally, you can take it no more. That is your punishment for destroying Alaria, with your bloody crusade to glory. I hope it was worth it.”

He spit at me, but missed and made himself look like a fool. “I hope I’m not the end of the rebellion Galbranok, you need to feel a blade pierce your heart. Someone needs to slay the Dark lord, and bring peace to Alaria. My only regret is that I could not be the one to see the job done… But, I will savor the day you are brought to your knees.”

“Yeah, that’ll be the day Victor. I’ll be seeing you, and please, make yourself at home. You’ll not be leaving any time soon.” I sheathed my sword, and exited the room. It felt good, to finally be at the top of the world, unrivaled by anything or anyone. No-one could stop me now. For I, am Galbranok, the Dark Lord of Alaria, and everyone would soon bow to me.

One Last Time (Part 1 of 3)

One Last Time (Part 1 of 3)

They closed the back door of the van, locking it carefully, trying to do it as carefully and quietly as possible. Feelings of uncertainty and fear began to rush through my head. Mitchell, who was sitting to my left, must have noticed, because he kept looking at me, until he had finally managed to push the words, “Hey, you alright man?” out of his mouth.

I nodded, feeling completely unsure, “this is the last one, right? The big one?” It got extremely quiet between all of us as the words left my lips, obviously it was the one question no one knew the damn answer to. Finally, after a long awkward silence, Tyler turned around in the passenger seat, looking mighty confident in himself.

“It’s going to be fine man, don’t worry. We go in poor, and we come out as self-made men. It’ll be real easy man, just stick to the plan, and we’ll be set. You think you can do that?”

I nodded, taking care to remain silent, still thinking of the many doubts that plagued my mind. Reaching into my suit pocket, I grabbed a handkerchief, wiping the clusters of sweat that covered the top of my head, feeling slightly embarrassed.

George, who was sitting across from Mitchell and I started to laugh, and giving a slight smirk as he watched me, “Take a deep breath man, chill the fuck out already.” He just smiled, watching as I continued to receive the jitters, worrying about the job that was to come. He sighed, “It’s all going to be alright bro, and you've done things like this before. So, why’re you so on edge man? You’re not a rookie.”

I shrugged, truly not knowing why I felt so afraid, so, empty. I was used to doing things of criminal nature, that much was true. As a child I sold drugs on the streets, and even started robbing liquor stores at the age of fifteen. I wasn’t the best kid, but I was skilled at what I did.

I’d been hanging out with the guys for a while to be honest, having robbed gangs of their profits, small time stores, and even a small county bank or two. This wasn't some small place though, this was a fucking government bank. One of those ones with the highest of security and power, something I’d never even dreamed of robbing.

The plan was rather simple, Mitchell and I would go in, wait for George and Tyler to call the heist, and then Mitchell and I would suit up and blow the vault. We’d get around six bags of cash, and throw them in the van. Hopefully, if everything went well, we’d have exactly one hour before the police noticed anything suspicious.

Frank, the driver, would sit out around back, waiting for Mitchell and me to unload the pay. After we get the money out, Tyler and George would meet us out front. We’d pick it up and have time to safely escape without ever feeling the heat hit our backs.

The job was simple, high paying, and supposedly easy. Why was I so afraid? Perhaps it was the new experience, or the fact that we’d been in San Francisco so long, either could have been a high possibility. Everyone else was ready, calm, hell even excited to get this done. I was the one who had to ruin all the great vibes.

Tyler turned around again, being careful to address everyone in a quieter tone, “This can get serious guys. I don’t mean to bring down any of your spirits, but this might get really rough.” He looked towards me, pausing for a minute. “No matter what happens, we’re a family now. We’ve always been one, and we got each other’s backs. I want each, and every damn one of you to watch out for your brother as you would yourself. Alright?”

Everyone nodded, understanding that what laid before us might not be as easy as anticipated. As we pulled up to the bank, we got ready. I put on my mask, one that resembled a ghost, and prepared for the last job I’d ever partake in. Hopeful, that this would be my last successful job. Little did I know, I was half right, it was in fact, my last job. 

Dancing is for the Soul

Dancing is for the Soul

The night was young, perhaps more so than I had anticipated. I had business to attend to that evening, within the beautifully decorated restaurant. I was there, to settle a dispute, one very easily put to rest.

It’s true I had a purpose to be there, but I had arrived two hours early, something that happened by accident. Perhaps it was in good fortune though, because it allowed me to have some time to myself, time I could spend drinking by the darkness of the bar, admiring the lovely women who had been out slow dancing with their dates and husbands.

The restaurant was one of the higher class places in the city and everyone who attended, even myself, were clad in the fanciest of clothing such as a tuxedo or a fancy dress.  This is what easily made everyone in the room feel better than the rest of the world, most people would never have the opportunity to dine and partake in luxuries such as these.

The dancing wasn't the only thing that was elegant however, there were masterly crafted chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, along with gigantic murals of famous historical people covering both the walls and the top of the building. There was even a multitude of tables, with which, many people sat around carrying conversations about their day at the office or such. It was a sight to behold, something even I, had not seen too often.

I ordered a larger glass of the aged scotch, savoring the elegant taste in my mouth. I must have looked lonely sitting there by myself, gazing at the brightly colored ballroom floor, because a pretty young lady came over to me, asking if I’d care to dance. Normally I’d have said no, but the elegant shade of blue in her eyes and her stunningly, beautiful face made me feel like it would be impossible to turn her down. I said yes, taking care to explain that I was a horrible dancer and that she soon would regret it.

She took me by the hand and dragged my reluctant body to the floor, and we took our pose. The music was done by a live orchestra, and it played very smoothly indicating that, they had practiced their routine quite extensively. I began to lead her in the Waltz, which most of the other couples were also engaged in, and carefully led her, doing so quite perfectly if I say so myself.

That’s how you reel them in, you set the standards low, and then you surpass them significantly. She’ll be more enamored by your skills, helping you to easily win over her heart. It was something I’ve practiced since I was kid, before I became the self-made man I was today.

I've reached my mid-thirties, and she looked to be several years older than I, which made me seem more extravagant than I had actually happened to be. That was the goal, to win her over, to make her night as much as she would make mine, and I could tell by the expression of her face it was working quite well. I knew, by the end of the night, I’d have her within the clutches of my hand.

The clock had struck ten faster than I had imagined, and if It hadn't been for one of the nearby waiters spilling his drink tray, I might have forgotten why I had originally arrived to the party. I told the beautiful lady that I had to go and finish a quick meeting, but that if she waited for me, I’d gladly repay the favor. She blushed, clearly indicating that she had been interested in me, and waved a little goodbye. I kissed her on the hand, and walked to the kitchen, where my meeting would take place.

The kitchen was crowded, and smelled of prime meets and beautifully, perfected vegetables, but I ignored the wondrous smells of the kitchen, and pressed through the back doors, entering into a private room that only a select few could enter. I carefully shut the door behind me, making sure the door was locked and bolted, protecting the meeting from intrusion, and notified the people inside I was ready.

The room was barren, save for a cabinet in the leftmost corner of the room, and looked to be rather unused. There were no windows, but a single light in the middle of the room, which happened to be very dim. I stood there, waiting for the return of the men, and noticed how filthy the floor had happened to be. Eventually, around six or seven minutes later, they entered from a wooden door on the right side of the room.

They had brought me a man, tied to a small, wooden chair and whom had been gagged very carefully. He had been beaten severely, showing blackened eyes, bruises on the cheeks, and even blood soaking the front of his shirt. He was looking around the dust covered room, hoping to see some kind of way to escape, and began to whimper at the sight of me, he cowered, more afraid than when I had seen him the day earlier.

“Ryan,” I said, “I hope you’re feeling better than you were yesterday. It was such a shame you weren't feeling up to talking. But, I have faith you’ll be a regular chatty Kathy tonight, won’t you lad?” He nodded, trying to tell me that he was ready to spill whatever it was I wanted.

I carefully removed the gag, and looked at him for a good moment. “So, where did you take my drugs, Ryan? Who has my drugs?” He was quiet.

“I don’t know.” He whispered it, knowing what would soon happen to him.

“Ryan, I’m a forgiving man. If you give me what it is that I want, I’ll let you go. Is that not what you want? Do you not want to see your family again?”

“I do… It’s just… I don’t know who has them! I swear, I don’t know!” His eye’s showed signs of extreme terror, tearing as he managed to scream his words at me. To be quite honest, I felt bad for the kid, or would have, had he not stolen from me in the first place he’d have been perfectly fine.

I punched him, straight in his mouth. “That isn't what I wanted to hear Ryan, you know that.” I put the gag back in his mouth and walked to one of the nearby cabinets. Carefully, I removed an apron off of the rack, and grabbed a pair of small leather gloves. Ryan was squirming in his chair, he knew what was coming, and that he was getting what the fool deserved.

I walked back to him, slipping on the gloves, and carefully placing the apron around my neck. “I didn’t want to do this Ryan. You had a choice, you just picked rather poorly.” I reached into my suit pocket, grabbing a small silenced gun, and pointed it as Ryan’s forehead.

He began to tremble with fear, and I couldn't blame him. I’d probably have done the same. I pressed it against his skin, and pulled the trigger. He was no longer with us, sad to say.

I had the men in the room dispose of him, and I quickly cleaned up myself. I put the apron away, and disposed of the gun as well. That was the end of my meeting, and I carefully exited through the kitchen, and back once again to the ballroom.

She had been sitting there, where I had enjoyed my delicious scotch, eagerly awaiting my return. I walked to her, grabbed her by the hand, and led her out to the dance floor once again.

Looking forward to what the night would soon have in store, I forgot about Ryan, about the drugs, and even the hardships that now plagued my life. Perhaps what they say is true, perhaps dancing truly is good for the soul.

What to Expect From This Blog:

The Joys the Blog Shall Give:

     Basically, this is a blog I've created to serve as a writing exercise. I'll write short stories, character descriptions, and maybe even horrible poems. This is just an experiment though, nothing I've decided to be permanent just yet.

     I'll post the stories here, so people can read them, tell me what they thought, and even offer advice and ideas for another short story. I'm very willing to accept constructive criticism, and hope that readers will some day be able to appreciate what I've attempted to do for them here.

     As of now, there is no specific time I'll be posting stories but I'm sure I'll decide in the future. I do however, appreciate people who read my stories, and would be very grateful for anyone who recommended this blog to a friend. Anyways, thank you for your time, and I hope that this is a place for you.

A Day Not Forgotten

A Day Not Forgotten

      I stood there, looking into the eyes of the man I had just shot. I'd seen him, countless times before now, always smiling at me, watching as I had blindly ignored his presence. I could only imagine that he thought me a fool, blinded by the case I was so determined to solve. 

      I had been working day and night, often skipping meals and even sleep itself, to find the murderer who was currently stalking the streets. It hurt me, mostly because I had lost my wife to similar circumstances, and I got involved emotionally. Her killer was never found, and that was something I was not going to let happen to these young women.

      The killer left many clues, one of which had led me to a diner where he presumably would often eat at. I quickly found myself going to that very diner every day, and to no avail, I was unable to find the man, and several more women were lost to his monstrous clutches. 

      I was puzzled, unable to solve the task on my own, so I asked my brother for help, something I probably shouldn't have done now that I think back upon my actions. He was supportive though, offering his advice, and even meeting me at the diner every day as we discussed case notes. The murderer however, never showed. 

      Every day, more and more women would begin to die, which only increased my determination to find the man who would so ruthlessly kill an innocent woman. That's what they were, innocent. They were all young, defenseless, and inexperienced to what life had to offer. How could I not want him to be brought to justice? To be finally stopped, preventing any other family from going through the same situation? 

      I began to see more and more similarities to my wife's case as this one dragged on. There happened to be a killing on the same day as the one's made when she had died, causing me to think maybe, maybe there was something more to it. 

      I stopped going to the diner, I stopped going into work, I stopped doing everything. Everything, except for solving this case. I would compare the murders to the ones that had plagued the city before, and they matched up. It was odd how close they were because even to the slightest detail, they happened to be the same.

      The day of my wife's murder edged closer and closer, and upon the anniversary of the eve of her death, I knew where the killer would strike next. I got prepared, arriving to that spot that caused me so much pain before, prepared to stop the man who was slowly killing me. I was finally going to arrest the man who had caused me, and so many others the pain and suffering of losing a loved one.

      I awaited in the shadows, waiting for some kind of sign or showing of trouble. Around midnight there was screaming. I jumped out of my vehicle, which I had taken extreme caution to keep hidden from sight, and rushed to the sound of screaming and torture. 

      I yelled, ordering for the man stop as I drew my gun and pointed it at the him. He was tall, encased by darkness, and told me in a deep dark voice: "Put your gun on the ground, I'll let her go."

      I kept my stance, and he stood there, arm around the girl and ready to slit her throat with a large military issued combat knife. I told him to stop, that it was over and that he was going down not only for these murders, but for those that happened years ago when my wife was taken from me.

      He only laughed, standing there and began to make a motion to slit her throat, clearly not caring about what had happened to him from then on. In a quick reaction, I shot him, right between the eyes. The girl screamed, crying so hard I couldn't tell what she was saying. 

      I had to know what the face of such a cold man looked like, so I took a quick glance. I had never felt so foolish, deceived, or even like a failure in my life. I had never expected that morning, that the man I would take down that very day, would look so familiar, yet so different. I then knew, I'd never forget that day I had killed my very own brother.